Men of Tokyo: Forbidden Cravings (White Tigers) by Guillone Sedonia

Author:Guillone, Sedonia [Guillone, Sedonia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Ai Press
Published: 2013-08-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

A strange noise woke Mod. His eyes popped open. Faint traffic sounds filtered in from outside and through the slats, he could see the beginnings of daylight. Almost time to—

Tatou whimpered. The noise that had woken him.

“T?” he whispered.

Tatou stirred, twisting as if he were being tormented. Another whimper and he started to pant.

“T!”

Tatou burst awake. He sat bolt upright, chest heaving.

Mod touched the other man’s shoulder.

Tatou jumped.

“T, it’s all right. It’s me.”

Tatou looked at him. His pupils were still dilated. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and upper lip. “I woke you, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“No, you didn’t. Are you all right?” The impulse rose to put his arms around Tatou, but something held him back.

Tatou nodded then raked a hand through his hair. “Bad dream.” He lay back against his pillow and took a deep breath. “This is the second time since we got here I’ve had this dream. Never before.”

Mod leaned back, still resisting the urge to touch his brother again, as if physical contact would make Tatou recoil. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tatou shrugged and inhaled deeply again. Mod watched the movement of the other man’s chest against the thin white material of his sleeveless shirt. “Not much to tell really. I see a woman’s face. An older woman with thin lips, all pinched up. She’s glaring at me as if she hates me more than anyone or anything else in the world and would love to see me dead.” He closed his eyes briefly. “That’s all that happens and yet, it leaves me shaken.”

“I see that.” Mod sat back and dared to put a hand on Tatou’s arm. Thankfully, Tatou didn’t flinch. Yet Tatou’s description of the dream left him uncomfortable. What if the woman was some part of Tatou’s conscience, telling him he was wrong to be exploring sex…this way? “Maybe it’s just from the big change of scenery we’ve just gone through.”

“Could be.” Tatou fell silent. If he had any of his own theories about his dream, he didn’t seem inclined to share them.

Which only worried Mod more. “Well,” he said, sitting up, “probably the best thing would be to meditate and get started with the day. We’re supposed to help prepare breakfast.”

Tatou nodded. “Hey, how are you today? Sore?”

Mod finally became aware of his own body. He stretched out one arm. The muscles protested a little bit, but not terribly. “All right, actually. A bit stiff but I’ll get by.”

Tatou smiled. “Good.” Slowly he pushed the covers down and stood up. “Just going to use the bathroom and splash some water on my face first. Don’t wait up.”

“Okay.” Mod sat cross-legged and closed his eyes. At first, he listened to the sounds of Tatou in the bathroom, but then his hearing expanded to include the traffic noises, the occasional horn honking, the diesel chugging of a larger truck amongst the cars, then the gentle rise and fall of his own breath. His discomfort over Tatou’s dream was there, but there was a deeper calm that embraced it.

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